


a little piece of home

by spacegirlkj



Series: Oihina Week [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Fluff, M/M, mushy love n shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 11:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7435072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegirlkj/pseuds/spacegirlkj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a big step, Shouyou thinks as he stands back, wiping the paint of his hands to look at the blue room.</p><p>Their first real home, Tooru and him.</p><p>(Day Six, Time Skip.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	a little piece of home

**Author's Note:**

> get ready for feelings :)

It’s a big step, Shouyou thinks as he stands back, wiping the paint of his hands to look at the blue room. Their first real home, Tooru and him. 

The building only has four other apartments, and even though there’s enough stairs to substitute any kind of leg workout, Shouyou finds himself grinning. The flat is moderate in size, with a kitchen and dining room on one floor, and office and living room in the next, and the bedroom one the top. The rooms are skinny, the bedroom roof angled, but it is perfect, perfect because of who he can share it with.

Hinata turns around to see Tooru sprawled out on the floor, groaning. He has a bandanna tied around his head to keep his hair out of his face, but even then, his brown locks are flecked with blue. Shouyou laughs, flicks his brush in his direction, earning him a squeal as Tooru jumps up, chasing him with blue hands.

Shouyou doesn't even protest, allowing himself to be smothered in blue as Tooru smeared his hand across Hinata’s cheek. They both smile with glee, crackling radio static harmonizing with their laughs as the pair wrestle to the ground, not caring if paint gets onto their clothes in the processes. Nothing like that matters, after all.

The apartment is void of any furniture, so they spend the night on an old futon, wrapped in blankets and each other’s arms. It doesn't matter that they are sleeping in the kitchen, the only room without wet paint, or that there is a draft that chills every inch of their skin. Tooru tangles his legs with Shouyou’s, brushes his toes against his own, and the thought of being with him is enough to warm his bones. 

Ikea furniture was a bad idea, in hindsight. They loaded the boxes into the car, hauled them up the many steps only to realize they weren’t finished. Picture book instructions litter the bedroom floor, and Hinata crouches over them, trying to understand what he was supposed to do.

Oikawa leans against the now dry wall, hooking his phone up to a small speaker so he could play music as they work. He selects a playlist, a coy smile working it’s way onto his face as he watches Hinata lay the wood pieces onto the floor. _Ziggy Stardust_ fills the room, and the acoustics of David Bowie’s voice bounce off of the walls.

And God, even if Tooru could tear his eyes away from Shouyou, he wouldn't. Shouyou’s hair is ruffled and out of place, and he bites his tongue, his eyes fixed downwards in concentration. Tooru can’t keep his stomach from fluttering, and has to pinch himself to remind him that it wasn't a dream.

Shouyou looks up at him, pouting, complains that he isn't helping. Tooru laughs, because it wasn't until he spoke that he was able to be snapped out of his trance. He kneels down next to him, grabs a hammer and taps away at the pegs as Hinata holds the board steady. 

In the end, it takes them three hours just to finish the bed, and they resort to calling Iwaizumi over to help them, despite Tooru’s protests of wanting to keep the flat away from any other eyes until it was ready. Common sense and pure exhaustion weighed out, though, because Iwaizumi is stronger then the both of them. They manage to put together the dresser, bookshelves, and table before Tooru passes out in exhaustion. Shouyou smiles fondly, tucking him into the newly made bed as he goes back to working on the nightstands.

There is a bay window in the kitchen, overlooking the bustling street, where small cafés and markets open their doors and windows, extending their awnings and allowed shade for the passerby. An idea pops into Shouyou’s head, and he quickly runs up the stairs to the bedroom and shakes Tooru awake. Shouyou grasps Tooru by the wrist, pulling him out of bed before they could empty any of the boxes into their new furniture. He drags him down the stairs, into the streets where the warm sun shines onto their skin, reflects over the sheen in Shouyou’s bright eyes. It’s blinding; not the sun, but his smile, and it sends warmth through Tooru’s stomach. 

Tooru spots a florist shop, and pulls Shouyou along, tugging him in. The store, shrouded in green housed greenery and flowers galore, enchants them in moments. Shouyou relishes in the way Tooru’s face lights up as he begins to pick out plants, placing them onto their cart. Shouyou points out a cactus with flowering spines, and Tooru reaches up onto the tall shelf to take it down, placing it next to the potted plants. The shop smells like earth and distinct scent of summer, and it makes Shouyou’s insides flip. He later realizes that that was from the way that Oikawa could name every plant he pulled off the rack.

The owner lets them borrow the cart to drag the small forest of plants back to their flat, and once again, they are faced with the dilemma of how to bring them all upstairs. They settle on going two at a time, only breaking the pattern to hunk a large pot up together, both of their arms straining as they place it into the doorway.

They don’t bother bringing the plants any father than that, and they dash back down the stairs. Shouyou talks Tooru into keeping the cart until they finished shopping, and the elder agrees, pulling the cart behind him as Shouyou fills it with vegetables from the market. The market was full to the brim, the fresh harvest taunting both of them into grabbing nearly one of every fruit that laid out on display. 

The bakery was next, and Tooru pulls out his phone, setting a five minute timer so they won’t become entranced by the scent of fresh bread. They manage to anyway, but at least they are able to leave with time left in the day.

They meander back to the flat, _their_ flat, cart now heavy with produce and bread. Shouyou’s hand fits perfectly in Tooru’s palm, and they swing their arms in time to a song that a nearby busker plays. They slow to listen, Shouyou finishing a tip out of his pocket to hand to the man, who smiles in thanks. The entire way back is spent singing that song, swinging their arms and carrying groceries into their apartment.

It’s a week until they manage to place everything together, until they manage to transfer their kitchenware and blankets and pillows into the proper rooms. They are still missing a couch, but neither mind. Shouyou’s favourite place to sit is between Tooru’s legs, anyway, his long arms wrapped around him as he reads, the book open in front him so he could read along. The passage is about a kite race, and the boy in the book was winning. Shouyou feels light, like he is floating, because he can feel Tooru’s steady heartbeat through his back, a reliant _thump_ , keeping time like a metronome.

The plants make their ways to different corners of the house, the cacti resting on the ledge of the bay window, smiling to Tooru every morning as he makes his coffee. Each morning, the sun shines through the window, casting her glow onto his hands as he poured the drink into his cup. He doesn't feel envious of her warmth, because he has his own sun sitting on the counter, musing about a dream he had just had.

The housewarming party is loud and bustling, the way anything with the pair were. Kageyama grumbles a welcome, entering with Kenma trailing behind, still feinting irritation to Tooru, but the pair gift them an old record player sound system, so Shouyou can only assume he approves.

The record player hums, 80’s tunes floating through the air as more guests arrive. Iwaizumi gives them thick linen sheets, the kind that your grandmother had that you always envied. He punches Tooru on the shoulder when he inevitably made a dirty joke, claiming that Mattsun and Maki needed to arrive before that could be said.

And arrive, they do, with a plush antique couch being lugged between them. It takes four people to bring it up to the living room, but only when they do, do Shouyou and Hinata realize it is a horrendous shade of pink, with green pillows and gold feet. It’s the single most ugliest couch either of them had seen, (“Ugly, because it needs to match you, Oikawa,” Maki says. Everyone snickers at the comment, only Shouyou rushing to his defence, placing a kiss on his hand and assuring him that he was prettier than the pink monster.)

A few more people arrive, Yamaguchi and Yachi showing up with wine and cheese (something the couple had forgotten to buy), and Hinata can’t contain his glee, because everyone was together again, laughing and hugging and joking. 

Granted, Issei does ask Shouyou and Tooru had ‘christened’ the new flat, a question which Tooru chooses to flat right ignore. Hanamaki snickers at Tooru’s stutter and Shouyou’s blush, intertwining his hand with his fiancée’s. The gold shimmer of his engagement ring catches the dim light of the chandelier, sending a sparkle into Shouyou’s eyes. The glimmer in his eye makes Tooru’s heart flutter, a soft smile sitting on his face, because the realization of it all hits him, they were together, in a home they were making their own.

Shouyou catches him staring, and sticks out his tongue, grabbing his hand and curling into his arms as they continue the conversation. Everyone had gotten used to the fact that the pair were inseparable, the fact that they always seemed to be touching in some way.

The next month brings Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s wedding, and Shouyou is sat on the bathroom counter, Tooru leaning over him as he fixed his tie. Tooru looks painfully beautiful, especially so, with his pressed designer button down and ass hugging dress pants. His bow tie, though, is crooked, so Hinata reaches up and fixes it, brown eyes meeting brown eyes in a moment of silence. It isn’t long before Tooru leans down and kisses him, soft lips caressing his. He tastes like chocolate and coffee, and Shouyou melts into the kiss, reaching his arms forwards to bring them closer.

The wedding is beautiful, held on the top floor of a sleek hotel. Red roses litter the venue, placed on tables, slipped onto the back of chairs, even on the huge crystal light fixture. Shouyou sits in the front row, smiling towards Tooru in reassurance. He is a groomsman, him and Iwaizumi sharing the title of best man. Tooru nods back, and Shouyou can tell he is trying not to cry before the ceremony starts.

And what a beautiful ceremony, indeed. Takahiro walks down the aisle, bouquet of red roses in hand, his mother on his arm. And in a split second, as he walks onto the aisle, Shouyou looks back to where Issei stands, tears brimming in his eyes and a look of pure adoration on his face. It is like a fairytale came to life, magic pouring out from the couple’s eyes as they grow closer.

The vows are lighthearted and genuine, and halfway through his, Issei’s voice cracks, causing Takahiro to laugh, tears already spilling from his eyes. When they finally get to kiss, Takahiro practically pounces, smashing his face into Issei’s as the other dips him. It lasts a second longer than to be considered family friendly, and by the end of it, Shouyou can’t deny that he has cried, just a little bit.

The reception is lighthearted, with newly-wed Takahiro and Issei Hanamaki entering while reenacting the team rocket theme song, complete with a rose between the teeth. Shouyou doubles over laughing, already light and bubbly with champagne, Tooru’s hand slotted in his. Iwaizumi and Tooru’s speech is heartfelt, drawing tears from even the most stoic, but it ends on a light note, when Tooru makes a joke about how he had caught the newly-weds making out in the locker rooms on multiple occasions. That earned a grimace from Iwaizumi as he recalled the, likely traumatizing, memory, and a round of laughter from the crowd.

It wasn't long until they are all full of cake, and waltzing onto the dance floor. Mainly upbeat songs play, the four best friends jumping up and down, dancing in circles together for one song as Shouyou watches, camera in hand to record what could only be called amazing blackmail material. When the music slows down, he feels a hand grab onto his wrist, tugging him onto the floor. Shouyou looks up to see Tooru, eyes crinkled from smiling, guiding him onto the dance floor.

They swirl in circles, slowing to a waltz as the music hums through the venue. Tooru is stunning under the indigo light, his eyes warm and soft as they stare down at Shouyou lovingly, his hand warm in his hand and on the small of his back. They are both surprisingly good dancers, and the music flows right into their souls, letting them sway to the sound of guitar and violins.

And, fuck, weddings always make Tooru cry, not to mention those of his best friends. He can see Issei and Takahiro press their foreheads together out of the corner on his eye, smirking and smiling about something as they dance. Shouyou smiles as he wipes the tears off of Tooru’s cheeks.

They don’t get home until the early morning, and when they do, it is all they could do to stumble into bed, shucking off their pants and jackets and crisp button downs. As beautiful as Shouyou looks all dolled up, Tooru could vouch that he looks even better in an oversized t-shirt of his.

“Hey, Shou?” Tooru mumbles, half asleep with the shorter in his arms.

Shouyou hums into his chest in response, wriggling as Tooru draws lazy shapes on his shoulder

“One day,” Tooru says, being careful to keep his voice quiet. “One day, I’m gonna marry you, Shouyou.”

The room stays quiet, and Tooru sighs with fondness, realizing the younger must have been asleep. He closes his eyes, curling up closer to him, warm with the lingering champagne in his belly and the magic of weddings in his blood.

It wasn’t until a few moments later that a voice spoke out, breaking through the silence.

“So do I, Tooru.”

Tooru smiles into ginger hair, clutching him tighter.

And a few years later, they lay exactly where they were before, rolling around in thick linen sheets, the kind that you envied you grandmother for owning, naked except for the golden bands on their ring fingers. In much the same way, there will be tear tracks on their eyes, and champagne bubbling in their tummies, the magic of wedding pulsing in their veins, but this time, they will be high off their own love, crying at their own ceremony. 

And the ugly pink couch still sits in their living room, and they both silently agree to never throw it out, instead cherishing the soft, worn cushions and chipped gold feet. The bedroom is still blue, and there are more plants littering the hallways and window sills. The cacti still twinkle to Tooru as he brew his coffee each morning, only now, a small aloe vera accompany it, along with three other pots of succulents. 

There are picture frames littering the hallways, of team photos and of wedding ceremonies. Trophies sit on shelves, with the olympic gold framed and centred. Memories lay out across the book shelves, each book telling two stories. The novel with the boy’s chasing kites is lying face down, pages dog earned and spine bent from overuse. Tooru hums, knowing it is Shouyou’s favourite. He always leaves it out.

And the sun casts her iridescent glow throughout the kitchen, warming everything she touches. But Tooru ignores it still, turns around to face the sun sitting on his counter, barefoot wearing only a his t-shirt, bowl of cereal in hand.

Their first real home, skinny and high, with too many stairs and cheap IKEA furniture, ugly couches and an antique record player. With picture frames from weddings and championships and books with bent corners and two beautiful boy’s, basking in the sight of the love they can’t deny.

**Author's Note:**

> the book mentioned is the kite runner, which I suggest everyone to read~


End file.
